


Little Glass Flowers

by metrophobic



Series: Stupid Sexy Tweek [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Biting, Erotic Photography, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Roughness, This is some real gay shit, Tweek gets a little weird when he fucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 07:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13142037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metrophobic/pseuds/metrophobic
Summary: Tweek needs help with a photography project for his university portfolio. The project involves Christmas lights and a naked subject. The naked subject is Craig. They both enjoy this endeavour very much, so guess what happens next.(PWP with a generous helping of Tweek being an eccentric weirdo because it's Tweek, and a side dish of Creek sappiness because... it's Creek.)





	Little Glass Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I can't sleep, not because I'm excited because I actually hate Christmas, but because insomnia is a bitch. Bah humbug, and here's some Christmas porn! Merry Christmas!

“Look.” Tweek was starting to get agitated with this whole thing. “If you don’t _want_ to do it,” he said, gritting his teeth for emphasis, “then _just say so._ ”

“I do want to,” Craig said flatly, which was really just his default setting, so Tweek at least knew that he was sincere. “I just don’t understand why I need to take off my clothes.”

“Because it’s _art_ , Craig.” Tweek sighed, setting his camera aside for a moment and folding his arms. “It’ll look stupid otherwise.”

“Not the look,” said Craig. Tweek didn’t know which ‘look’ he meant, but whatever Tweek did, it was working, because Craig was tugging up the hem of his shirt, and just as quick-- it was off him. He dropped it to the floor and grabbed hold of his jeans, tugged down the zipper and promptly pushed them down to his ankles. It was actually pretty comical; Tweek had to bite one of his knuckles to suppress the laugh that bubbled up in his chest, but his shoulders quaked incriminatingly anyhow.

He knew Craig saw it, because Craig stopped what he was doing, and _stared._

“What,” he finally said.

“ _Mmgh--_ ” Tweek knew he was doing a piss-poor job of suppressing himself. “Are you _actually_ getting naked for my very thought-provoking, controversial, _erotic_ photography project; or are you just getting ready to take a shit?”

“Fuck you,” said Craig, reaching down for his pants. For a second there, it seemed like he really was going to yank them up and back the Hell out of this whole affair-- but then he was pushing them down even further, bundling them around his socked feet before they all came off in a mass of wool and denim. He flexed his toes against the carpet and Tweek raked his eyes over him appreciatively, tongue darting over his lower lip.

“ _Nnh._ Almost there!”

“I thought we agreed my dick wasn’t entering this equation.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Tweek insisted, “but _I_ still wanna see it.”

“Sicko,” said Craig, but his thumb was already slipping under the waistband of his underwear.

“ _Hah!_ Prude!”

“You’re gay,” was Craig’s incredibly witty comeback to _that_ , and he was right, because Tweek brazenly watched as Craig’s boxers fell to expose him, and didn’t even try to pretend otherwise.

“Takes one to know one,” he remarked happily.

Craig crossed the small distance between them and grabbed Tweek’s face in his hands, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth. “I don’t think this is a project at all,” he stated with quiet deliberation, drawing his thumb over the shallow dimple in his boyfriend’s chin. “This is just a ruse. We’re between semesters right now.”

“It’s for my portfolio,” Tweek said, haughtily poking his nose in the air before pressing his palm to Craig’s chest, nudging him back. “ _And_ I’m entering it in the upcoming showcase this spring. _Nn_ , we’ve _been_ over this, Craig!” Sometimes Tweek didn’t understand how someone so intelligent and _together_ like Craig could also be a complete lackwit. Then again, intelligence manifested itself in different ways. Kind of like how Craig was always in awe of whatever shit Tweek managed to cobble together like he was the next Banksy or Van Gogh or something, and Tweek had developed a reliance on Craig’s calm logic in the face of his episodes like a goddamn chemical habit. “Just get on your knees,” he concluded, and dimmed the overhead lights.

“Don’t forget the rules,” Craig said as he did exactly what he was told-- like usual. But Tweek loved that about him, too. “None of my face, or my privates. That includes my ass, too.”

“I _know_ , Craig,” Tweek half-growled at him, through his teeth, and ran a hand through his bangs in mock exasperation. But he was smiling, just a little, as he opened the box he’d set aside and pulled out everything he needed-- one long, tangled bunch of green wires.

Covered in tiny lightbulbs.

Craig was eyeing them with what looked to be trepidation; he tried so hard to make himself unreadable all the time, but Tweek could almost always see right through it. Then again, when you’ve been holding hands with the same boy since fourth grade; kissing him since sixth; making out since eighth; fucking him since tenth-- learning how to _miss_ him since the end of twelfth and a new beginning three states away that would always circle back to the same ending-- somewhere in there, you start sensing all his tells, picking them up like a second language.

Craig apparently wasn’t fluent in Tweek, though, because he must have forgotten about _this_ , too. Did his quiet acceptance begin and end with _do this important thing for me_ , with all the details lost in translation?

“You have the strangest ideas, babe,” Craig remarked. “Please tell me there isn’t a Santa hat in there somewhere.” Tweek felt himself relax again.

“There-- there isn’t a Santa hat in there, somewhere,” he replied, amusement colouring his tone. “It’s just this.” He leaned in close enough for his lips to brush Craig’s earlobe, and whispered playfully, “try not to get _too_ hard.” As he straightened, he added before Craig could get a word in edgewise: “In case you’re afraid of your _privates_ showing up.”

“I’m not going to,” stated Craig, as if this were a fixed absolute. “This is too weird.” Tweek hummed out his acknowledgement as he untangled the mass of lights and settled the first loop around the back of his neck. They were the tiny ones, with the little points on the ends that reminded Tweek of bishop chess pieces, and he could see their colours even with the apartment dimmed and the bulbs unlit. An assortment of blue, red, green, pink, yellow. Tweek was grateful that they were scattered. If they’d been arranged on the line in predictable, uniform patterns, it would have ruined everything.

“Arms out,” Tweek instructed, and Craig lifted them. They would come later, Tweek noted to himself as he wrapped the lights around Craig’s chest, one loop under his arms, and then another, and another. Tweek was close enough that he could smell both Craig’s deodorant and the underlying natural musk of him underneath. He missed them. Last time he visited and subsequently had to leave again, after Thanksgiving, he’d asked Craig to let him take one of his unwashed t-shirts with him. Craig showered practically every day so it wasn’t like anything in his laundry pile was particularly odious, but he got weirdly self-conscious over the request anyway. Tweek ended up sneaking one off the top of his hamper. Craig never asked about it or mentioned it since.

“Can I put them down now,” Craig asked. Tweek nodded as he looped the strands over Craig’s dark nipples, too entranced by the way they drew taut to say anything just yet. His ribs were next and Tweek bit back the urge to grin when Craig tensed and sucked in his stomach. He wanted to run his fingertips over the flat muscles there and watch Craig squirm, something he’d never wanted to let Craig live down since they were 16-- when Craig had gotten drunk at some stupid party and pinned him, assaulted him relentlessly with his fingers until Tweek was a squealing, giggling, whimpering mess-- then subsequently let his guard down, because _holy shit did you seriously just come in your pants_ , which left Tweek with ample opportunity to launch the counter-offensive. Craig wasn’t as sensitive as Tweek was, and Tweek hadn’t deluded himself into thinking otherwise, but he did thrash around and whine with a profound vulnerability, _stop **stop** I’m gonna piss myself_ , and that made it all worth it.

He’d spent so many years before that leaving everyone with the impression that he was untouchable, that tickling just _didn’t work_ on him, because his lack of ability to _give any of the fucks_ made him immune. It didn’t occur to Tweek until that fateful day that clearly no one had bothered to _try_.

Craig, in the present, cleared his throat. Tweek blinked up at him. “Why are you just staring at my stomach,” he asked.

“ _Um--_ ” Tweek felt his ears grow hot. “It’s hard not to stare, okay! Just be patient.” That was a really stupid explanation, and he ducked his head, winding more of the garland around Craig’s body until it gathered at his hips. There was still plenty of slack left.

“How long is this thing,” Craig mused. “Are you gonna use it all?”

“Yes,” Tweek answered him. “I linked a few sets together.” He snuck a glance down below; it wasn’t like Craig could have expected him _not_ to at any given point. He wasn’t _entirely_ soft, stirring with curiosity under Tweek’s careful calloused touches, but he’d remained true to his word about being too weirded out to get hard from this.

Maybe.

They weren’t done yet, and the lights had yet to be turned on.

Tweek brought them back up, and then he said, “arms behind your back.” Craig looked him dead in the eye, but didn’t say anything. Perhaps his quiet stare was supposed to say everything he felt. If it did, then Tweek could read its message loud and clear.

 _This is really fucked up and you’re a complete freak for doing this, but I trust you, so go ahead and get it over with._

Tweek circled around behind him and started up again without another word, beginning at his wrists and working his way up. He felt Craig exhale, and watched the curve of his spine, slowly rising and falling with his breaths. It was almost peaceful, in a way. Hypnotic. Maybe Craig was feeding off that energy, or maybe it was wishful thinking on Tweek’s part, and he really did just want to get this shit over with. Tweek finished at his biceps and let his hands affectionately brush over Craig’s broad shoulders before his touch drifted away.

There was still some length left on the wires, but Tweek realized then with a sudden rush of frustration that he’d done this backwards. He wanted to do Craig’s legs, too, but there was no way it would reach them now without unraveling and doing it all over again.

“What now,” Craig prompted, as if he could sense this impasse himself.

“I fucked up,” Tweek whispered, and buried his face in his hands with a whine. “ _Damn_ it!”

“Uh,” Craig replied, “what’s that supposed to mean.”

 _I got so wrapped up in thinking about you that I fucked the whole thing up_ , Tweek thought, but there was absolutely no way he would say that out loud. So he just huffed out a frustrated sigh and said, “I should’ve done _here_ \--” he lightly touched Craig’s navel, and pretended not to notice the way Craig sucked in his stomach again, unconsciously shifting away, “--then up, and back down again! I fucked it all up!”

“Does that mean you need to start over,” asked Craig, and there was nothing in his tone that indicated impatience, but Tweek read it there anyway. He’d already wasted Craig’s time, and now even _that_ would be for naught.

“ _No,_ ” Tweek found himself whining. “No, I just-- _rrgh!_ Fuck. Just hold on a minute. I need to think.” He raked a hand back through his hair. “God _damn_ it,” he huffed to himself, again, though it was audible enough that Craig probably still heard it, and probably remembered that he was dating the biggest whiny, petulant baby on the planet who couldn’t do _anything right_ not even waste his boyfriend’s time properly.

“If you need to start over,” Craig said gently, “it’s fine.”

“I don’t _want_ to,” Tweek replied glumly, because that just made him feel even more guilty.

“Look,” said Craig, “you were just gonna do close-ups of things, right? None of the pictures were gonna show my whole body.”

“Yeah,” Tweek answered. “That’s true.”

“So just do this part first, and then you can take it down and wrap up the rest,” Craig suggested. “Just break it down into sections. Take it one step at a time.”

Tweek idly bit at a hangnail on his thumb. “Fuck,” he said. “That’s a really good idea, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you got all flustered over something that wasn’t a big deal,” Craig pointed out. Tweek laughed at this, and leaned over Craig’s shoulder to kiss him on the cheek, bracing a hand against his bound arms. Craig just kind of leaned his head against Tweek’s temple as a return gesture.

“Okay,” said Tweek. “ _Nnh._ Scoot this way.” He guided Craig a little bit closer to the wall, where he could reach the outlet, and plugged in the lights.

They immediately came to life, casting patterns of light over Craig’s naked body, illuminating him in an array of soft colours that painted his skin in broad brushstrokes. Tweek stared at him for a moment, in awe. Craig looked too, down at himself. Down at the living piece of art he’d become.

“I look really gay now,” he observed.

“No you _don’t!_ ” Tweek laughed. He resisted the urge to throw his arms around Craig and instead grabbed at his DSLR camera, switching it on and futzing about with the settings. He snapped a couple of random shots just to get the balancing right.

“I wasn’t ready,” griped Craig.

“That wasn’t it, don’t worry,” Tweek said hurriedly. “I’m gonna light some candles, okay?”

“Wha--”

But Tweek was already up, hurrying to the kitchen to grab some, and when he returned he pushed the coffee table closer to where Craig was trussed up. Craig watched as he arranged and lit them.

“Why,” he finally asked.

“We need better lighting, but I don’t want to turn the lights up,” Tweek quickly explained. He took a couple more test shots.

“Isn’t that what the flash is for?”

“ _No!_ ” Tweek lowered the camera, horrified. “Are you _crazy?!_ ”

“I’m sitting here naked in Christmas bondage. Because you asked me to. So, you tell me.”

But Tweek didn’t have anything to tell him, because he was absorbed in the camera’s settings again. It was a definite improvement, the array of candles casting Craig’s skin in a warm golden glow, the tiny lights glimmering solid. It almost looked… _magical_ , though Tweek knew if he said that, Craig would make another dumb comment about them being _so gay_ and it would spoil the moment. So instead, he simply lowered the camera.

“Do they hurt?” he asked, walking a circle around Craig where he was kneeling on the carpet, head slightly bowed between his shoulders. Craig shook his head.

“They’re warm,” he said, “but they aren’t burning me.”

“Good.” Tweek brought up the camera again and took aim. “I’m starting now. Hold still, okay?”

“Okay.”

He started with his back, catching the biceps of his arms, then his wrists, his hands-- pressed together as if in prayer, the lights dotting his knuckles. Tweek wanted to kiss every one of them, but he forced himself to stay _in the zone_ , and brought the camera up to snap Craig’s shoulder. The curve of it, the slope toward his neck, and then the broad plane of his upper back. _Snap._ The arc of his bare spine, between the bound ‘Y’ of his arms. _Snap._ Over and over. Tweek brought it in closer, and caught each one of his vertebrae, clicking from the small of his back all the way up to the nape of his neck.

Craig kept his head bowed the whole time. Between the clicks of the shutter, which came as quick as breaths, Tweek could hear him too, each careful drag of air through his lungs. As if he were afraid of disturbing the scene somehow.

His eyes were closed when Tweek circled around him again, and he looked so perfect that Tweek wanted to capture him just like this, all of him-- but he’d made a promise. He leaned in close and brushed a finger over Craig’s throat, felt its apple pulse with a thick swallow. “Lift your head up,” he said quietly. Craig didn’t say anything, just did as he was told, and Tweek focused on the expanse of his throat. The lights started at the bottom, casting shadows of themselves, a palette that ran all the way up to Craig’s jaw. But he didn’t go up that far, as much as he wanted to, because again, he’d promised. The shutter clicked again, over and over.

He was in the zone now.

Next were his clavicles, his chest. Tweek didn’t zoom in on his nipples, it felt like it would have crossed the line into cheesy pornography, but he left them in as glorious details whenever he caught swaths of muscle. His ribs came next, and just like his spine, Tweek caught every one, and then pulled back to get the bigger picture, the lines of them highlighted in blues, greens, golden.

Wordlessly, Tweek gently tugged on Craig’s shoulders, and he seemed to understand, hoisting himself up further on his knees instead of sitting on his bent calves like he had been; putting his whole torso on display. He caught the planes of Craig’s abdomen next, his navel, and the lewd trail of hair that ran down beneath it, the most obscene they would both allow. Tweek shot his hip bones, too, one and then the other. Craig’s penis didn’t even register to him at this point, only the idea of _keep it out_ , and he stayed true to that condition, drifting upward again. More snaps as he went, and then circled around behind again, to snap more of his spine, whatever he might have missed. He didn’t want to miss an inch of this body that he’d been allowed such detailed access to, truthfully.

Tweek set the camera down momentarily and exhaled. “You can rest for a minute,” he said, and became acutely aware of the sweat beading on the back of his own neck. Craig sank back down into a half-seated position again, and Tweek heard the damp sounds of his lip being passed through his teeth, the click of his tongue. He braced a careful hand against Craig’s shoulder. “I’m gonna have you, _nh_ , lie on your side, okay?”

“Gonna be a bit difficult to move,” Craig said. His voice sounded guttural, almost raw. “Hands,” he clarified, shifting his arms a little to indicate them. Tweek nodded, though it was mostly to himself.

“Hang on,” he said, and took Craig’s upper body in his hands to guide him down. Craig curved himself inward, his cheek pressed to the floor. Tweek imagined that even with the carpet there it was probably not very comfortable, not to mention the roughness of the fibers against his skin. “I’ll make this part quick,” he assured him, and knelt down beside him, resuming his work. He started from behind again, capturing more shots of his back and the bound arms that lay helpless against it, the strain of Craig’s shoulder. Tweek leaned over him and caught his side as well, there was a particular shot that included his ribs and part of his chest that he really liked. He took a few more of that particular shot just to be sure. And Craig remained still, quiet, patient, only the barest movements allowed for breathing.

Tweek scooted around to the front of him again, still on his knees. Craig’s eyes were closed. Tweek caught the base of his throat, the edge of a clavicle. He moved further down and grabbed more shots of Craig’s ribs. He wanted to touch them, the way they had their own shadows, shot through by lines of these tiny magical lights. But he forced himself to stay away from Craig’s flesh. He was untouchable right now. All profound art tended to be.

Craig seemed to sense where Tweek was aiming the lens, even with his eyes shut. “You’ll have to hold it out of the way,” he muttered, though his quiet seemed more out of respect for the atmosphere and Tweek’s concentration than anything else.

For a few seconds Tweek didn’t understand what he meant, but then it hit him, and he looked down; Craig _had_ gotten hard, and it was sort of nested against his hip. Tweek reached down and carefully tucked a palm against it, nudging it out of the shot, but it was difficult to take the picture one-handed. After a few slightly-blurry shots he gave up, pulling his hand back, but he couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“Please,” he found himself quietly asking. “I won’t use it.”

Craig made some kind of noncommittal grunt in response.

“It’d be just for me. You’re--” Tweek drew in a quick breath, and whispered, “you’re so beautiful.”

“You like it that much?”

“Uh-huh. Yes.” Tweek nodded quickly, even though Craig still had his eyes closed. “I _love_ it, I miss it so much when we’re apart. I miss _you._ All of you, _fuck--_ ” He brushed his fingers along one of Craig’s hips, and paused when his fingertips just barely grazed the tip of him. “But, _nnnn._ This, your-- your _cock_ , god, I need it. I need it, Craig. When you go back to school and I’m still _here,_ still trying to fucking sleep at night, trying to get through every stupid course with people who are just faces that mean _nothing_ \-- I need it so badly. I only have mine to look at, and it’s not the same. It’s-- it’s not the same at _all._ ”

“Hm.” Craig blinked his eyes open. They seemed a little hazy at first, like this was the first time he allowed himself to look at Tweek while he worked on this project of his, another little labour to get him through the day, and then the days would become a week, and then the weeks would become-- not enough time at all, but then it was too much at the same time, stretching and limiting. “Okay.”

“ _Ah_ \-- you mean it? I, um. I-I don’t want you to feel forced, I just got a little worked up--”

“Do it,” said Craig. “You’re like… actually talented. Way better than sending you some shitty selfie.” Which he still hadn’t. _It’s vulgar and lame, I can’t do it,_ he would always say. _Damn it, you’re the most vulgar person I know, are you fucking kidding me!? Just send me your fucking dick!_ But Tweek never actually said any of that to him, because he didn’t want to be a pushy piece of shit who disregarded boundaries. He’d known way too many selfish assholes over the course of his life to ever want to be like that.

Now it was like he’d been handed the key to the best, most secretly buried treasure chest in the goddamn world. He didn’t even _try_ to hide his grin as he brought the camera up and took a shot, not just of Craig’s cock, but the way it rested against him, the lines of his hips and stomach. The lights that coloured them all.

“Thanks,” he said. “You have _no_ idea how much this means to me.”

“You sound like you won a stupid award or something,” Craig replied. “That’s it? Just one?”

“How many can I take?” Tweek asked him, the camera held in front of his chest, like he couldn’t bring himself to put it down even if Craig had told him _just one._

“As many as you need,” Craig answered. “Just don’t send them in. If you do, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“ _Jesus,_ ” Tweek hissed, pawing at his own hair. He couldn’t even fucking _believe_ the opportunity that had presented itself. “I won’t,” he promised quickly. “I won’t let _anyone_ see them! You know how freaked out I get about privacy. I’ll hide ‘em away and fucking _encrypt_ them.”

“Good,” said Craig. Tweek hoisted himself up and started snapping more pictures. He curled his fingers around the base of Craig’s prick and heard him inhale deeply, but he didn’t stimulate him further, just held the camera as steady as he could and clicked, clicked, clicked.

“Can you, um-- can you turn over?” He’d really meant it as a form of permission, but Craig understood that anyway, and nodded. Tweek reached out and gripped his shoulder, helping him to ease onto his back. Craig grunted but didn’t elaborate on what was making him uncomfortable. It must have been his arms. Tweek decided to be as quick as he could. “ _Nnn_ , that’s good,” he said, a bit hurriedly. “Spread your legs.” Craig did, and Tweek felt like he was going to salivate like some kind of pathetic, hungry mongrel. He managed a few shots before he had to put down the camera, because his hands were shaking so bad.

“You okay?” Craig seemed to have heard this. He opened his eyes again and tried to lift his head enough to look at Tweek’s face.

“Yeah,” Tweek breathed. “I just, I-- I need to climb on your dick, I want to climb on you, right _now._ ”

“Get the lube, babe,” Craig said quietly. His voice had that raw edge to it again. Tweek didn’t fucking need to be told twice. He ran into his bedroom, nearly tripping over himself in the process, and snatched it out of his nightstand without even closing the drawer. Then he was back in the living room, having lost his shirt somewhere in there and already started on his pants. Craig had kind of shifted his weight, body tilted to one side to better accommodate the state of his arms. “Fuck,” he said, with affection. “You’re really horny, aren’t ya honey?”

“Uh-huh,” Tweek said, kicking off his pants and tugging down his briefs. He was flush with need and the thought of Craig looking at it like that, taking all of him in with his eyes, just made it worse. “Your fault,” he gasped out, squeezing out a liberal amount of lubricant into his hand and smearing it all over Craig’s dick. Craig sighed and let his eyes slide closed again. “Your fault, _nnn,_ all your fault, _yours_ \--” He straddled him.

“How’s it my fault?” Craig lifted his hips, but then he was looking at Tweek again. “Hang on. Wanna see you touch yourself first. Get that hole nice and wet.”

“ _Uuuugh,_ ” Tweek whined, but he did so anyway, getting a nice glob on his fingertips and pressing up between his cheeks. “You’re the… you’re the one who got _hard_ during my _project!_ ”

“Yeah,” Craig agreed. “I sure did.”

“You’re an asshole! You ruined everything!”

“Yep,” said Craig. “Turn around. I can’t see shit.” Tweek did just that, turning around so his back was to him and bending over, feeling his face grow hot with that strange combination of shame and raw hunger that he always got whenever Craig wanted a good view of his hole. He _liked_ that weird feeling, because it made him feel that much more dirty, and it reminded him that he didn’t actually need to have _any_ shame when it came to Craig. _Only_ when it came to Craig. He whined softly. “Good,” said Craig. “Real good. You like having me look at you, baby? Y’like showing it to me?”

“Yes,” Tweek whispered, shaking.

“That’s kinda how I felt, when you were taking pictures. You can sit on it now.”

That made sense. But Tweek wasn’t going to reflect on it any longer than necessary, because all he could think about was taking Craig’s dick in him, it had been _way too long_ and they both knew the wait when they got back to Tweek’s apartment would be that much sweeter, that was why Tweek wanted to delve into this well of inspiration that had bloomed in him right away. But now he was completely fucking undone and he knew Craig was, too, could feel it in the way he tensed beneath him and hear it in how he moaned so quiet, so vulnerable when Tweek drew him in. He didn’t think until he’d already started thrusting on him that he could have turned back around first, looked at Craig’s face, but they both _needed_ this too badly and he wasn’t going to put the brakes on now for something as silly as a _position_.

“ _Fuck,_ ” groaned Craig, rutting up nearly as desperate as Tweek ground onto him. “Ah, yeah, fuck, that’s good babe, so good-- you’re not gonna come, right?” Tweek didn’t know _why_ , but he shook his head anyway, like clockwork. “You’re gonna fuck me,” Craig said. “Gonna fuck me, after I come inside you.”

“Oh, _god_ ,” Tweek moaned. “Don’t keep saying that or I _will_ , Jesus Christ Craig--” He stopped arching up and down and just held himself there, rolling his hips, forward and back. He was aching, in all the right ways but in some that weren’t so right, like the ache that made him want to grab and play with his cock, but he didn’t want this to be over so soon when Craig already made plans for it. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward a bit, making a grab for Craig’s legs and bracing himself there, arching back, listening to the sound of Craig’s heavy breaths and sinking into them. He wanted to hear him moan again, though, and reached back, gripping his hips tight.

“Don’t-- _ah_ \-- no more. No _moving,_ ” Tweek growled out. “ _I’m_ doing all the work now.”

“I’ll try,” Craig rasped out, “but I can’t promise anything. _Oh,_ fuck. Oh god, baby, yes… _yes_ \--” Tweek had started fucking himself more surely on his dick, dragging him in and out, knowing just how he liked to fuck when he was in control: long and slow, teasing them both, then quick and forceful, then lather rinse repeat until they were both clawing at whatever skin they could reach and going completely fucking crazy for each other. That was the beauty of only fucking the same person for nearly five years, having _only_ fucked them, no one else, spiraling from a sweet and innocent childhood romance into nasty, horny teenage boys still utterly wrapped up in each other. Not even _thinking_ about anyone else. You learn _everything._

“You like that? Like my ass?”

“ _Yes_ , fuck, perfect ass, love it, love you--”

“That’s right,” Tweek panted, taking that control back for himself, because it was Craig who was tied up, god damn it-- and he wasn’t about to waste this. “And-- and you’re gonna, gonna fill it with your come, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Craig groaned, and Tweek felt him thrash, and growl, because he probably wanted to grab onto Tweek’s ass but was quickly reminded that he _couldn’t._ Tweek grinned to himself.

“Poor baby,” he said sweetly, rolling against him hard now, in sharp quick bursts that made him shudder and broke Craig’s voice entirely so he couldn’t even snap back at him, just whimper pathetically. “Wanna come?”

Craig couldn’t even speak, just moan at him, broken and feverish, pleading. Tweek knew he didn’t even have to go harder, just keep pushing, keep pushing back, and tighten up, strangle it out of him-- Craig was flooding into him and he milked it all out, pressing his hands into the carpet, gasping his own relief almost like he could feel it too. But he was still hard, and wanting. It wasn’t over yet. He hoisted himself up and turned around, bent to kiss him.

“Missed you,” he mumbled between lazy laps of tongue. “Missed you, missed your cock. Love you.”

“Me too,” Craig managed to get out. When Tweek eased back from him he breathed out long and slow. “Fuck. You like, obliterated me. I came really hard.”

“ _Nnnn._ I know.” Tweek was kneeling over him. He reached down to brush Craig’s hair out of his face, where it stuck to his forehead in thin black tendrils. “Probably gonna leak out when I fuck you, but that’s okay. I like being dirty for you.”

“I know you do.” Craig turned his head and kissed Tweek’s palm.

“I’m gonna roll you over,” said Tweek. Craig grunted and shifted, and they did just that, letting him rest his weight on his shoulder. His ass was all red, along with the backs of his shoulders. Tweek gingerly touched one of his cheeks.

“Think I got rugburn on my ass,” Craig said.

“Does it hurt?” Tweek wondered. Craig shook his head. Tweek lowered his head and licked down the curve of him anyway, and he jerked his hips in surprise.

“Your tongue feels hot,” he said.

“ _You’re_ hot,” Tweek countered, and Craig snorted at him. Tweek reached for the lube again and squeezed a generous amount into the crack of Craig’s ass, smearing it all over his asshole with a pair of fingers.

“Don’t finger me, honey,” said Craig. “Just get it in there.”

“ _I’m_ in charge,” Tweek huffed at him, “and just for that, I _will_.” He eased one inside, smearing the liquid around for good measure, and Craig sighed as he relaxed around him. “ _Nn,_ you’re all nice and ready,” Tweek mused, sliding it out just to work in a pair of them, delighting in the sloppy wet noises it made, “aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” answered Craig, though he tensed at first at the added finger, then slowly opened up for him. “Totally ready.”

“Good,” said Tweek, rubbing some more on his cock, “me too.” He grabbed at Craig’s bound wrists with one hand and held himself carefully in the other, butting up against Craig’s hole until he slipped inside. Craig hissed sharply, and Tweek let go of his wrists to pet his hair comfortingly. “Too much?”

“Nah.”

“Good,” said Tweek, and then added, “good boy.” Craig grumbled something incomprehensible and arched his back, pressed his hips back insistently. Tweek grabbed him by the wrists again. “That doesn’t sound like something a good boy would say!” he scolded, even though he didn’t actually hear what Craig said. It sounded like it was probably bitchy, though, so he needed to be called on it.

“Sorry,” Craig mumbled. “Just really need it.”

“You already got off,” Tweek said, lifting his hips as Craig spread around him, and he fit neatly inside him, just like how he imagined Craig always fit in _him._ They were practically fucking molded to each other at this point. Tweek knew in the back of his head that it was probably just endorphins and other crazy, horny, 20-year-old hormones and naive young adult feelings, but he wanted to be with Craig forever. He never wanted to be inside anyone else, and never wanted to think about Craig fucking anyone else, either. They would be in their 60s and still wrapped around each other for all eternity. That was what he decided.

“Not to get off,” said Craig. “Just need _you._ ” Tweek swallowed back a whimper and pressed his face into the juncture of Craig’s bound arms, kissing his back.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much, Craig.”

“Are you getting all faggy on me now?”

“Uh-huh,” said Tweek. “Fuck you. You started it. Prick.”

“Did not,” said Craig, even though he obviously knew that he did. Tweek lifted his head and bit into the back of his neck. Craig jerked and gasped sharply. “The _fuck!_ ”

“Yes you _did,_ ” Tweek insisted, biting at him again. Craig tried to twist away from him. Tweek bit his shoulder this time.

“ _Ow._ God damn it, Tweek.”

Tweek licked at the place he’d nipped and asked, “do you want me to stop?”

“No,” said Craig. “Do it again.” Tweek grinned and raked his teeth over a place on Craig’s upper back, between the lights, they were still glowing. He rocked his hips and Craig sighed, before he shifted his weight onto his other shoulder. “You too, babe,” he said quietly.

“Me too _what?_ ” Tweek grinned and snapped his hips once. Craig groaned and tensed up.

“You know what,” he said, his breathing getting more laboured.

“No I _don’t!_ ” Tweek bucked up into him again, and relished in the way Craig started gasping for air.

“That I-- I _love_ you, fucking _stupid--_ ”

“ _Nrgh!_ I don’t think I’m fucking stupid at all,” Tweek retorted, rocking his hips steadily. He moved both his hands to hold onto Craig’s hips, pulling his body backward against him. “I think I’m fucking _smart._ Aren’t I? I’m fucking _smart_ right now, fucking you, fucking you so _smart._ ”

“I don’t-- _ahh--_ I can’t-- _fuck--_ ”

“Smart, I’m _smart_ ,” Tweek chanted, driving in and out as he did so, though neither of them had any rhyme or reason, completely out of sync. “Say I’m _smart!_ Smart, smart, _smart!_ ”

“Okay!” Craig said quickly. “You’re _smart._ Smart _and_ funny.”

“ _What!_ ” Tweek shrieked. “Are you calling me a girl!?”

“--no...”

“Don’t call me a fucking girl, man!” Tweek grabbed Craig’s shoulders and slammed his hips forward, wrenching a broken cry from him. “Can girls do _this?!_ How smart and funny am I now, you _prick!?_ ”

“Nuh-- no-- _fuck--_ ” Craig made a funny sound that sounded like he was choking but then he kind of snorted, which meant he was _probably_ laughing, but he was too into getting plowed to get it out right. He groaned and Tweek watched through wild eyes as he dropped to the floor entirely, cheek pressed to the carpet, panting as he reared back, begging without words.

“I’m so close,” Tweek whined, bucking forward, getting serious again as he pressed himself forward into Craig’s back. The glittering lights pressed into his skin and he shivered at their warmth, imagining what it must look like, something that could never be seen by any naked eye or any lens: their skin and _only_ their skin, enmeshed, glowing with so many colours that it all ran together, like their blood, and their seed. “Craig,” he whimpered, pushing his face up against his neck and breathing in the smell of his skin, his sweat, he licked him and tasted salt. “I wanna come but, I want you to, again. Again! Come around my dick, I don’t wanna know where I-- where mine ends, and yours-- _nnnnnhh--_ ”

“Gotta fuck me deep enough,” Craig managed to get out, like every word took all the breath out of him. Tweek whined in frustration. _Craig_ could fuck it out of _him_ , hell, he’d fucking _tickled_ it out of him before, but Tweek never got to do it. Craig just wasn’t built the same way, the closest he’d gotten was rubbing him with his fingers, but he still had to jerk off in the end.

“Are you hard again?” Tweek asked, slipping a hand underneath Craig’s body, feeling for his cock. He wasn’t, only halfway there.

“No,” Craig answered, as if he didn’t just figure that out for himself. “Babe don’t stop, it’s not always about-- _uhn--_ getting off. Just let go for me-- please.” There was something so sweet about the way he said ‘please’, like he was both giving permission and begging for Tweek to _take_ that permission, that Tweek yearned to indulge him. He twisted his hands up in the lights and tugged, watching the way the tiny bulbs jutted out between his fingers, and his skin glowed up translucent and colourful. He could see _everything._

“ _Wow,_ ” he whispered, entranced, and then he bit into the back of Craig’s neck again, only this time it wasn’t to tease or torment him. It was to keep himself there, and to keep Craig in place, a reminder. He suckled at the skin and whined against it, fucking his release into him, feeling his eyes water from the intensity of it but he wasn’t _crying_ , oh no, he didn’t _cry_ over these things. They just mattered, to the point of being overwhelming, and his senses couldn’t take it anymore. When he needed to breathe again he let go, and desperately clutched at Craig’s shoulders, trembling from the force of his own grip.

“Babe,” Craig was saying. “Honey. _Honey._ Relax. You’re doing it again.”

“Wh-- what?” Tweek realized then that he was probably crushing Craig’s shoulders into dust, and he released him, spreading his palms over the places he’d held and rubbing as a way of apology. Craig turned his head and kissed him the best he could, though he only got his chin, then his cheek. Tweek leaned forward to help, kissing him on the mouth, licking greedily at his lips.

“God,” Craig groaned, pulling away himself and sagging forward. He was exhausted, Tweek could see that much. He licked across the dark, dark mark he’d left behind on the nape of his neck and fumbled around for the end of the lights so he could unravel Craig and let him be his own person again. “You should probably unplug them,” Craig pointed out helpfully.

“Oh. You’re right.” Tweek did just that. The lights winked out and they only had candlelight and the dim remnant of the overhead lighting in the living room. The colours were gone-- no, they would never be gone. Tweek had made certain of that. He let them come down, all the way from Craig’s shoulders to his wrists and then the pattern around his body, unweaving him backwards. When it was fully off Tweek set the lot of them aside, what resembled a massive tangle of vines with strange tiny glass buds, and he massaged Craig’s arms. “How are they,” he asked. “How’s your chest, and everything?”

“Fine,” Craig said, sitting up with a groan. “Fuck. My skin, though. Covered in rugburn.”

Tweek blew out the candles one by one. “Let’s go get cleaned up,” he suggested. “Mmm, I wanna take care of you.” In the dim light of the living room lamp and his own extracted colour he could still see the way Craig’s skin glowed, like some kind of aura. He snorted into the back of his wrist.

“What,” Craig asked, gently touching his back. “Are you laughing?”

“Uh-huh,” said Tweek. “A _gay_ aura.”

“Okay,” said Craig, like it was a completely normal thing to say.


End file.
